FT MEADE 
GenCol 1 















Hook 

Cop)iiglit N° 

COPYRIGHT DKTOSIT. 



/ 


I 


■ 






ft 


r 








*\ 
















































' 














































































































- 










. 
















































‘ 






















9 



Tige — Hw Story 

















































































































































































































' 
































































' 
















































































































































































































































Br 









?Z\0 

.3 


' ’ lONSHFSS 

fwo Ooptes rtwxiiWW 

oct e lyus | 

dOtfyrigni tiitrjf 

nai : 

f CL fMt Not 

JX536L 

qqp* «■ 


Copyright, 1905, 

* 

By Frederick A. Stokes Company 
Published in September, 1905 




The University Press, Cambridge, U. S. A. 


/ 


To my children 
Dickey and Mary Jane 
this book is affectionately 
dedicated 










CONTENTS 

Chapter 

I. My Parentage and Early Life 

II. My First Meeting with Buster Brown 

III. Frolics in the Country 

IV. An Ohio Dog in a New York Apartment House .... 

V. Some of Buster’s Pranks 

VI. Life on Uncle Jack’s Farm — How Buster Rode Old Bawlly 

VII. How Buster Rode the Pig 

VIII. More Adventures on the Farm — Buster Goes Fishing — Did 
I Catch the Turtle, or Did the Turtle Catch Me ? . . . . 

IX. Fun with a Goose — I Take a Seidlitz Powder 

X. A Country Home and Country Dogs — Buster and I Are 

Vaccinated 

XI. Buster’s Sunday-School Lesson and Its Effects — A Few 

Remarks about Cats 

XII. Some Cat Tales 

XIII. Buster’s “Treatments” — An Attack of Measles — Some of 

My Adventures 

XIV. Some Dog Stories — Two Fights in Which I Was Interested 

XV. Buddy Tucker and Mary Jane — Buster and I Make Our 

Wills 

XVI. Buster’s Kindness of Heart — Some More of His Tricks — 
Thoughts on Dog-Heaven 


Page 

I 

4 

6 

8 

ii 

17 

19 

23 

26 

30 

32 

37 

40 

45 

5i 

58 




Twe-H is Stort 

CHAPTER I — My Parentage and Early Life 

S I am getting to be a middle-aged dog I Ve decided, 
before my memory fails me, to put down a few facts 
about my life, and record some of my experiences, 
hoping that they may be of interest to other dogs who 
have been fortunate enough to have had a dear little 
boy for a friend and companion. 

I HAVE not always been a resident of New York, for I was born 
in the outskirts of a village in Ohio. My mother was a pet in a 
very kind family which had no other dog, and although they treated 
her kindly and fed her well, they expected her to do all the watch- 
dog work for the whole place. Being very conscientious, she 
worked very hard at watch-dogging to support herself and her five 
offspring, of which I was one. When I was about six weeks old 
my brothers and sisters were sent away, leaving me alone to assist 
my mother. 



EC 



Tige — H/j Story 


I TOOK to watching naturally, and with a few lessons from my 
maternal parent I soon became so expert that she was able to go 
to her kennel at night and sleep as a good honest mother-dog 
should sleep. Of course I don’t mean that she loafed, Oh, no ! she 
did quite a lot of light watching during the day, and would howl 



She would howl at the moon some evenings until ten o’clock.” 


at the moon some evenings until ten o’clock. She was a good dog, 
and I have always tried, as far as possible, to walk in her footsteps. 

I ALWAYS had to run with the horses and follow the carriage to 
the village. I could bark the cows home from the pasture in the 
evenings as well as that job had ever been done by any dog. One 
of the cows told me so herself one day, and old Fritz, the bay 

[ 2 ] 



T ige — H/i Story 


horse, said she was the most truthful cow on the farm. I always 
liked a truthful cow, but I think that animals are truthful as a 
general thing. 



I always liked a truthful cow, 

Because she will not lie ; 

She tells you when her milk is skimmed, 

And tells the reason why. 

Tige Brown, His own composition. 

I HAD got to be a great pet with the family, and spent much 
of my time in the house. Thus I used to hear a great deal of 
what was said by the folks when they were at dinner or sitting 
around the log fire on winter evenings. When I followed the car- 
riage to the village and saw my people get letters at the post-office, 
I always wanted to hear those letters read, and when the family 
were all seated around the supper-table Grandma would put on her 
glasses and read them aloud. Every week there was a letter from 
New York, and it was always from “ Emily,” who had much to 
tell about “ the baby,” and I guessed that the baby was only about six 

[3] 


Tige — H is Story 

months younger than I was. I had never seen Emily, but I learned 
from her letters that she was the daughter who had gone to New 
York after her marriage to a man by the name of Brown. Grandma 
had visited her sometimes, but Emily had never been home for a 
visit since I was born. 



CHAPTER II — My First Meeting with 
Buster Brown 

IME went on, and when I was about two years and 
a half old I heard them read in a letter one evening 
that Emily was coming with the baby to make a 
long visit. The family were so overjoyed and happy 
over this news that I was happy too, and jumped up 
and barked and ran around the room like mad. Jack thought I 
wanted to go out, so he opened the door, and like a simpleton I 
ran out, so that I didn’t hear the rest of the letter where it told 
when she was coming. 

SO I waited and waited for several days, watching all the time 
to see when the family would all pile into the old carriage and 
drive to the station. I was just dying to see that baby I had 
heard so much about. 

WELL, the day came all right at last, and everybody in the house 
was in a flutter. Old Amanda, the coloured cook, was up early 
making pies and cookies, and scouring up everything in the kitchen. 

[4] 



Tige — His Story 


Amanda liked me and was always kind to me, but that day she was 
so busy that she actually kicked me out of the kitchen just because 
I was hanging around for my breakfast. But I just licked the 
place and forgave her. 

THE eventful hour arrived, the family got into the carriage, and 
off we started for the train. I don’t believe I ever barked so loud 
or so joyfully before. If I had known then that the dear little 
golden-haired baby whom we were going to meet at that train was 
the chap who would be my constant companion for life, I would 



He turned around and saw me.” 


have been quite serious. Little did I know that the champion 
mistake-maker and resolution-composer of the future was that same 
little baby I was waiting to see. But so it was. Little Buster Brown, 
whose joys and sorrows I was to share for life, was that very baby. 

THE whistle blew, and soon the train came bowling down the 
track. The bell rang, and with wonderful roaring of steam it slowed 
up and stopped. There they were — I saw Grandpa helping Emily 
and the baby off the train, and then such a catch-as-catch-can 
kissing and hugging match took place right there on the platform 
that it looked for a while as though some one would be hurt. No 
one paid any attention to me. 


[5] 


T ige — H is Story 


WHEN we got back to the farm, I got acquainted with the baby. 
As soon as they put him down on the lawn he made a flying leap 
for Grandma’s best flower-bed. 

“ LOOK out for your flowers, mother ! ” cried Buster’s mamma. 

“ OH, let him pick them ! ” said Grandma, and on he went. 

I FOLLOWED close at his heels, and just as he reached the 
flowers he turned around and saw me. Was he afraid? I should 
say not. He just took me by the ear and put his other hand right 
into my mouth ! 


CHAPTER III — Frolics in the Country 

HAT was our introduction. I just started right in 
loving him that very minute. I don’t suppose I 
deserve any credit for that : he loved me, so I just 
could n’t help myself. 

FROM that day on, through all the summer, I was 
his keeper. Many and many a time I have lain on the grass pre- 
tending to read a book, but all the while keeping a watchful eye 
on my little chum as he played around and contrived to get into 
mischief. Many a good sting on the nose I got from some bee 
that would have stung him if I had not made it my business to 
get in the way. The day he upset the bee-hive, though, he did get 
a few stings. I tried to get them all, and did succeed in getting 
most of them. If I had known the bees as well as I knew the 
cows and horses and other animals, I could have told them not to 





T ige — H is Story 


hurt him. I have never talked to a bee in my life. They are 
always so busy that they never seem to have time to talk. But I 
fancy they whisper to the flowers sometimes. 

WHEN Buster first arrived at his grandma’s he was dressed in 
pretty little frocks, but it was soon discovered that such clothes were 
not the thing for a healthy boy on a farm, so the funniest little overalls 
that any one ever saw were made for him, and he was turned 
loose in them each morning. 

I ALWAYS got all my snooping, chicken-chasing, or any such 
work off my hands early in the mornings before Buster was awake. 
Then I waited around for him to finish his breakfast. Directly 
this was over, away we would go. There were hosts of things to 
be done, hunting eggs in the barn or hen-house, sailing boats in 
the creek, watching the men make the hay, — all sorts of important 
things. Very often I would be so 
tired at night that after seeing him 
safe in his mother’s arms I would 
flop right down, clean tuckered out, 
and go off to sleep on the spot. I 
guess Buster slept sound too. 

THERE were some animals and things on the farm that had 
never been acquainted with a little boy before and did n’t know how 
to treat him. The old turkey gobbler, for instance, was one of 
those who were too serious to enjoy the society of a little boy and 
appreciate his funny pranks. But it was old Tom’s vanity that 
made him so mean and selfish. I suppose he thought that Buster 
would stand around and admire him ; but that is n’t what Buster 
did at all. He just walked up to Mr. Turkey and patted him on 
the head, saying, “ Poor little turkey ! Poor little turkey ! ” until that 
arrogant old bird could stand the insult to his pride no longer. He 
swelled up slowly and savagely, spreading his tail and dropping 
his wings. Buster broke into a wild scream of laughter and cried, 
“ Look out, little turkey, or oo ’ll det bursted.” This was too much : 
with a wild and savage gobble that almost shook the farm he 

[7] 



Tige — H/j Story 


jumped for Buster, who turned and ran as fast as those overalls 
would allow him. Poor Buster — he did n’t know there were any 
cross people in the world, especially on a farm in summer, where 
birds and bees and flowers, blue skies, babbling brooks, and all the 
other sweet things that poets sing about, are all around. But don’t 
get worried. My business was just to get that ugly old gobbler by 
the tail and let Buster escape, and that is just what happened. Do 
you know, that turkey never spoke to me again from that day on. 
He was a good turkey in some ways. I afterwards enjoyed his 
bones very much, — he was simply delicious. Here is a little poem 
I composed on the occasion : 

The turkey gobbler ’s vain and proud, 

He’s arrogant and vicious; 

Yet he has some good points, I know, — 

He’s good when cooked — delicious l 



CHAPTER IV— An Ohio Dog in a New York 
Apartment House 

O Buster grew and gathered bumps all that long sweet 
summer. Falling down stairs was his regular exercise : 
it seems to me that he fell once a day and all the different 
fancy falls imaginable, — head first, feet first, middle 
first, roly-poly, toboggan style, bounce, and sky-rocket. 
He never cried but a minute and was never discouraged. 

FINALLY, when the summer had gone and the leaves of yellow 
and gold were fluttering down with every little gust of wind, Emily, 
who was Buster’s mamma, made up her mind to return to New 
York. They counted on taking me with them just as though I 
had always belonged to the Brown family, and they did take me. 

I packed my trunk with all my spare 
pants, as I did not need as many, 
when going by train, as I did when 
running after the carriage. The 
'■*- journey was long, and a new experi- 
ence to me, but we got to New York all right. 

[ 8 ] 




T 'ige — H is Story 


THE change from the farm to a big apartment house was great! 
Maybe you think there were n’t a lot of things for Tiger to learn ! 

DO you think I ever saw an elevator ? I did n’t know that 
houses grew so tall. Just think what a shock it was to me to find 
myself on the seventh floor! But the thing that kept me guessing 
at first was the dumb waiter. When I first visited the kitchen the 
cook was just opening what I thought was a closet and taking out 
meat and vegetables, bread and eggs, and all sorts of things. I 
didn’t think anything of that until I saw her putting the garbage 
and waste papers and trash into that same closet at night. But 
when she commenced to yell and howl to some one in there I began 
to think it was a spiritual meeting and got scared. I did n’t get 
frightened at anything after that. Buster explained it all to me 
and told me I would find many curious things that would surprise 
me before I got through with city life. 

MR. BROWN came home one evening with a collar for me, 
a great leather thing with brass knobs all over it. I was proud of 
it at first, but soon grew to dislike it because it was in my way 
and not very comfortable. I always took it off" at night when I went 
to bed, and laid it on the top of the bureau. 



[9] 


T 'ige — His Story 


I HAD got so accustomed to all kinds of queer things in New 
York that I took quickly to the use of the telephone. One day 
Buster and his father had gone out, leaving me at home. I was 
dozing on the hearthrug when I heard the telephone bell ring. I 
jumped up and ran to the instrument, and quite distinctly heard 
Buster say, — 

“HELLO!” 

“ HELLO yourself!” I replied. 

“ IS that you, Tige ? ” said Buster. 

I GAVE three sharp barks by way of answer, and then I heard 
him say, — 

“ IT ’S all right, Pa ! That ’s Tige, sure enough ! ” And then 
he hollered to me again : 



“SAY, Tige! Meet me at Herald Square at five o’clock. We’ll 
go to the French restaurant for dinner, and then we ’ll go to the 
theatre ! ” 

I CALLED back, “ All right, Buster ! ” hung up the receiver 
again, and went to my room to dress, — that is to say, to put on 
my collar. I had to put on my pants as I was trotting down the 
Avenue, for I was a little late. 

[ 10 ] 


Tige — H is Story 


THE day that Buster’s mamma got him his regular Buster suit, 
with belt and breeches, collar and necktie, was the day that they 
decided to move to the country. I tell you I was happy when I 
heard that news. Nothing except Buster’s companionship had kept 
me happy in a New York apartment. It is a heathenish place 
to bring up a boy or a dog, and my heart bleeds when I think 
of all the dogs and children who pine away and get shrivelled 
souls and warped minds by being penned up in those narrow 
loveless streets. 



CHAPTER V — Some of Buster’s Pranks 

T was in the city that Buster first began to get into 
mischief, but it was simply because there was nothing 
else to do. One Sunday morning, when his mamma 
was nearly ready for church, as she was putting the 
last finishing touches to her hat and was admiring her 
beautiful new coat before the glass, her dear little son just slipped up 
behind her and pinned on her back a card on which was printed 

This 

Fine Imitation Sealskin Coat 
Only $20.00 



[ii] 



Tige — Wis Story 


I could see that a spanking would be the finish of that trick, but dogs 
have better sense than boys. They went to church that way. Buster, 
looking like an angel, followed his mother up the aisle to the pew, 
where they sat through the whole service, with the sign on his 
mamma’s back in plain view of the whole congregation. I don’t 
understand women at all, but I can readily see why a woman with a 
new five-hundred-dollar coat would n’t care to wear a sign like that 
on her back to church. One of her friends took it off after the service 
and explained how it had tested the deep religious fervour of the 
whole congregation. Well, there’s no use going into details about 
the fanning that Buster’s coat-tail got on their arrival home. 



and BEING kind will Bring You happinew 
you’ll fimd, if You butTry it.DONT Complain, 
the world w full enough of pain. BPAC5 
up forget Yourself awhile. You look 
MUCH NICER WHEN You J’MILE’. 



BUTTER. BROWN. 




\ 


/ 


s- 



A 


Mrs. Brown Going to Church 

0 * 










T ige — H/j' Story 


IT was then that Buster commenced making resolutions, and 
before long there was a resolution to make every day, and some 
days three or four. Buster never did anything in a spirit of revenge 
or malice ; even the dreadful trick he played on Mr. Smith was 
only done for fun, and he could n’t understand why poor Mr. 
Smith could n’t see it that way too. Perhaps you do not remember 
that awful trick, so I will tell you about it. 

MR. SMITH was a man who was always playing jokes on some- 
body ; it was his constant delight. Buster knew that no matter how 
big a joke he should play on Mr. Smith he would not be spanked for 
it. He really expected his father to give him a present when he 
should hear about it. So, as we were going along the street one 
day, Buster walked right into a tailor’s shop and said that Mr. Smith 
wanted some one to call at six o’clock that evening and take his 
clothes to be cleaned and ironed. The tailor took Mr. Smith’s name 
and address and we went away. But the very next tailor we came to 
he told the same story, and so on until about ten tailors had promised 
to call at Mr. Smith’s house at six o’clock that very evening. 

I THOUGHT this was perfectly dreadful, but it was only the 
start. We next visited as many as fifteen washerwomen, who were 
all told to call at Mr. Smith’s at six that evening for the linen. After 
that a few laundries were visited and similar instructions were given 
to them. All the florists in the neighbourhood were told that Mrs. 
Smith wanted two dozen roses or five dozen pinks sent to the 
house at six. In the same way the confectioners were ordered to 
send candy. “Yes, please charge it,” Buster would say in answer 
to the question that several put to him. 

I HATED to see Buster order the meat and fish and oysters and 
things, but ’twas he who was playing the trick. He told at least 
fifty poor people that if they would go to Mr. Smith’s at six o’clock 
they would receive coal and money and clothes. Some men who 
sold dogs on the street were told that Mr. Smith wanted to buy a 
dog. In fact, all afternoon this dear little cherub sent people to 
the Smiths’ on similar errands. 

[15] 


T ige — Wis Story 


AT half-past five o’clock we went to the telegraph office and 
there Buster sent Mr. Smith a telegram — a very long message 
it was — and told the operator to collect the money at the other 
end. When we got home he told his papa and mamma that he 
had met Mrs. Smith and that she had told him to say, “Wouldn’t 
Mr. and Mrs. Brown come over to dinner.” 

MR. AND MRS. BROWN went. But oh ! What a lovely time 
the Smiths were having when the Browns arrived ! Several police- 
men were keeping the struggling, pushing crowd in line, and trying 
to prevent a riot. Some of the angry people had threatened the 
Smiths with violence. Of course Mr. and Mrs. Smith were only 
too glad to see the Browns, — they needed sympathy and help. 

BUSTER was sound asleep when his parents arrived home that 
night, and a large resolution was tacked on the wall at the head 
of his bed. Next morning Buster’s papa gave him a present. Mr. 
Smith stopped playing practical jokes long ago, in fact he swore 
off that very night. 

DO you remember the time that Buster Brown dropped a stuffed 
dummy of himself out of the window? Of course you don’t, 
for you were not there. I was sorry he did that, it frightened 
his mamma so. But perhaps I ’d better tell you about it, it is n’t 
a long story at all. He just filled his pajamas with pillows 
and towels, and when his mamma came home that evening he 
dropped the stuffed affair out of the window, and it fell right in 
front of her. That was an awful shock for poor Ma. When she 
found out it wasn’t Buster she was so glad that she petted him 
and loved him and gave him all the candy he could eat. 



A Lot of Good Resolutions Gone to Waste. 


[16] 


Tige — H/i Story 


CHAPTER VI — Life on Uncle Jack’s Farm — 
How Buster Rode Old Bawlly 

ELL, it seems to me I have got away from my 
story ; but then I am only a dog, and this is the first 
book I have ever written. It may also be the last, 
for what could I find to write about except Buster ? 

I WAS telling you that the day on which Buster got 
his new suit the Browns decided to move to the country. Mr. Brown 
had a brother living on a farm somewhere up in New York State, 
and Buster and myself were sent there for a visit while the packing 
and moving were going on. I don’t know just how pleased Uncle 
Jack was to see us, but he did n’t cry his eyes out when we came 
away. We had a good time though. A big sigh went up from 
everything on the farm when we departed. 

THOSE days were the best of my life. They certainly were 
the funniest, for I never knew a little boy could think up so many 
fool things to do as he did. The day he rode old Bawlly, the 
horse, I nearly laughed myself to death. 

OLD BAWLLY was standing on the east side of the barn facing 
north. Buster wanted to get on his back, so he got a little old 
short ladder that was leaning against the side of the woodshed. 
Now, as I said, the horse was facing north, so Buster put the 
ladder up against his south end and began climbing it. When 
he had reached the top of the ladder the old horse just calmly 
walked away. Down came the ladder “kerplunk!” and Buster 
rolled over and over on the ground. The old horse looked around 
and laughed, switched his tail, and walked around to the other 
side of the barn. 




Buster put the ladder up against his south end.” 


WHAT did your friend Buster do ? Why, he picked up the 
ladder and followed him. When the horse stopped he walked up 
to him and put the ladder up against his side. Now don’t ever tell 
me that horses don’t enjoy a joke as much as any one else. That 
horse stood there and let Buster help me up on his back and get 
up too. 


T ige — H/f Story 


WHEN we were 
safely on board old 
horsey’s back, Bus- 
ter kicked the ladder 
away and said, 

“Giddap!” Then old 
Bawlly took it on a 
run. It did n’t take 
me long to bounce 
off. I ’m no circus dog. Not so with Buster. He hung on like grim 
death. Up to the orchard went the old horse on a dead run. I fol- 




lowed as fast as my 
and reached the or- 
see Mr. Horse go un- 
apple-tree, scraping 
and leaving him hang- 
the horse walked 
the orchard, switching 
to himself. Buster got 



legs could carry me 
chard just in time to 
der a low limb of an 
Buster off his back 
ing on the limb. Then 
slowly away through 
his tail, and chuckling 
down out of the tree, 
knocked out for a 


but was a little 
while. The next time I saw the old horse was that afternoon, in 
company with some other horses, and they were all laughing their 
heads off. I ’m sure he had been telling them about the whole thing. 


CHAPTER VII — How Buster Rode the Pig 

O you believe that that experience put an end to Buster’s 
attempts to ride things? No, sir! 

THE next day he came out of the stable with a saddle. 
He did n’t see me, so I just followed him. At last he came 
to an old sedate-looking hog that was blinking in the sun. 
Yes ! that ’s what he did, put the saddle on the pig and got aboard ! 

[19] 



T ige — H is Story 


THE pig decided to go away, and when he did, he went away 
fast, awfully fast! Down the hill he went, and headed directly 
for a hedge. I could see the finish of that ride, I thought. But I 
was mistaken, for when the pig dashed out on the other side Buster 
was still on his back. Piggy kept on running and snorting, and 
attracted the attention of a lot of other pigs, who joined the race. 
I suppose they thought it was a race. 

NOW in all my life I never saw such a funny sight. Buster 
Brown on piggy-back at the head of a whole herd of snorting swine. 
The more I ran, the more excuse they had to get excited and believe 
they were being chased. The bees from the three or four hives 
that they had tipped over now joined in, and gave the pigs more 
reason to increase their speed. It was a race fit for the Coliseum at 
Rome. Buster hung on ; he could n’t well do anything else now 
with all those pigs at his heels. 

DOWN in the barnyard, where the pigs live, there is a puddle 
of the dirtiest water I ever saw, where the pigs wallow. That’s 
where that herd was headed for, and that ’s where the race wound 
up. Oh, dear me , what a sight for sore eyes was my dear little 
comrade when he crawled out of that hog-hole ! I would love to 
have an instantaneous photograph of what Uncle Jack said when 
he saw his nice new saddle. Buster’s aunt thought some serious 
things when she had to put him under the pump. He wanted 
to save his money and buy that pig! What do you think of that? 
I laughed until I got hysterical and Uncle Jack had to throw a pail 
of cold water in my face. I was afraid that there was more coming, 
and so I made tracks! 

“ I made tracks ! ” 

[ 20 ] 



Tige — H is Story 


CHAPTER VIII — More Adventures on the 
Farm— Buster goes Fishing — Did I 
Catch the Turtle, or Did the 
Turtle Catch Me ? 

UNT EMELINE and Uncle Jack had no children 
of their own, so that’s why most of Buster’s curves 
were new to them. Each time he did some crazy 
thing they were as much surprised as though they had 
never seen a little boy. If they could only have taken 
hold of his line of thought they could have got some idea of what 
he was going to do. 

WHAT queer games he was up to, to be sure ! There was 
the time Buster planted the ducks. Yes, sir ! — planted a lot of 
little baby ducklings in nice little holes in the ground, then got 
the watering-pot, and sprinkled them all nice, so they would grow. 

NOTHING ever seemed to hurt that boy or to discourage him. 
The old cow kicked him right out through the roof because he was 
milking her, and as he came down “ kerplunk ” in the barnyard 
all he said was, “ Gee ! she ’s touchy ! ” Pshaw ! I just learned to 
love and admire him more every day when we were out on Uncle 
Jack’s farm. And laugh — I just began at that time to see how 
funny it all was. 

BUT the day he went fishing in the creek I did n’t even begin to 
suspect what was going to happen. Well, what happened to me 
was good and plenty that day. Uncle Jack fixed up an outfit for 
Buster, consisting of a cane rod, a hook and line, and a can of 
bait. Then we started for the creek. I carried a little basket con- 
taining our luncheon. We expected to bring that basket home 
full of fish. We did n’t bring it home at all that day, but went after 
it the next day. 



[23] 



Tige — H is Story 


THERE is a foot-bridge across the creek, made of a huge log 
that had been hewn off flat on one side. We struck the creek 
near this foot-bridge, so we decided to fish from it. We sat down 
on the log, fixed the rod, and then baited the hook and cast it into 
the water. For a long time we watched the shiny red cork that 
bobbed along on the surface of the creek, which was deeper here 
than at any other place. We could look down into the water and 
see the pretty sunfish darting about, and whole schools of minnows, 
but nothing seemed to touch our bait. I love to hear the gurgling of 
the water over the stones and among the long grass, and smell 
the peppermint that grows along the bank. There we sat listening 
to the birds and the hum of the bees, and watching the dragon-flies 
darting about. It was all sweet and lovely, but we came there 
to fish, not to write poetry, and we did n’t seem to be getting 
any bites. 

ALL of a sudden the cork disappeared, and the line commenced 
to run out. Buster pulled with all his might. Out came a great 
big snapping-turtle, which so frightened him that he lost his balance 
and over he went into the water. I jumped in after him and got 
him by the coat, and lugged him out, but he still hung on to the 



“It hurts to have a snapping-turtle take a hold of your tail.” 

[24] 


Tige — H is Story 


line and dragged out the turtle after him. Old Mr. Turtle made 
a hard fight, but Buster did too, and finally had him out on the 
grass. Three or four cows came up to see what was going on, 



“ They stripped off Buster’s wet clothes.” 


and I turned around to tell one of them all about how Buster 
got so wet, and just as quick as a wink that turtle had me by the 
tail. I tell you it hurts to have a big snapping- 
turtle take a hold of your tail. I let out a squawk 
and started for home. Do you think he let go ? 
No, sir! 

THEY stripped off Buster’s wet clothes and put 
him to bed between warm blankets, and gave 
him some hot catnip tea. Then they tied up my 
tail, and wanted to give me some catnip too. I 
begged to be excused. I had had all the nips I 
wanted. 

WE had turtle-soup the next day for dinner. I 
did n’t eat any — I was too mad. My tail was in a sling for 
a week. 



Then they tied up 
my tail.” 


[25] 


T 'ige — H is S tory 


CHAPTER IX — Fun with a Goose — I take a 
Seidlitz Powder 

HE day that Mrs. G. Whitaker Whack came over to 
spend the day with Auntie Emeline was the day Buster 
dropped a goose down the chimney. Oh, but that was 
a naughty trick ! 

AFTER he caught that goose and climbed up the 
ladder on to the roof with it, I knew that its destination was the 



parlour, so I went in there. There sat dear Aunt Emeline and Mrs. 
G. Whitaker Whack, sewing. Mrs. Whack was saying that she had 
always believed in ghosts, and she was telling of some things she had 

[26] 



Tige — H is Story 

seen in her time that made her believe in spirits. But Aunt Emeline 
said she could n’t bring herself to believe anything that she could n’t 
see with her own eyes. I suppose if that ’s the case she don’t believe 
in the law of gravitation. I suppose she does n’t know that animals 
and insects can smell and see and hear things that people cannot. 

BUT while all this conversation was going on dear little industrious 
Buster was on the roof trying to get that old goose into the chimney. 
All of a sudden, with a great noise, the goose came dashing down the 
chimney with about a barrel of soot, and with a wild squawk plunged 
out of the grate into the middle of the nice clean parlour. The two 
kind ladies just went back in their chairs, turning a complete somer- 
sault and rolling over into two opposite corners of the room, screaming 
at the top of their voices. After the goose had dashed out of the door 
and the clouds of dust and ashes had settled, I could see that there 
was a black streak from the fireplace to the door that had simply 
ruined dear Aunt Emeline’s parlour carpet. 

AS I said before, Uncle Jack and Aunt Emeline didn’t cry their 
eyes out when we left, which was that very evening. The conductor 
of the train on which we returned put us in the baggage-car, because 
he said he wished to get his train to New York on schedule time, so 
he wanted Buster where he could be watched. Pa was at the Grand 
Central Station to meet us, and he escorted us to our new home out 
on Long Island. 

WELL, we had n’t been home fifteen minutes when Buster played 
a trick on me that nearly cost me my life. Poor Ma was so tired and 
overcome from the work and excitement of moving that she had a 
headache. She had just fixed a seidlitz powder for herself, by putting 
two separate powders into two separate glasses half filled with water. 
It seems she was going to put the water from one glass into the other. 
I had never heard of a seidlitz powder before. Well, just as she was 
about to mix them, she was called from the room for a moment. As 
soon as she was gone Buster offered me one of the glasses and I drank it. 
It was not bad, and so, when he gave me the other glass, I drank that. 
I don’t believe an elephant could stand a dose like that inside him. 

[27] 


Tige — Wis Story 

IN three seconds I began to foam at the mouth, and clouds of 
smoke and foam ran out of my eyes, nose, and ears. I turned as 
many kinds of somersaults (to say nothing of epsom salts) as there 
are to turn. I rolled over on the floor and grabbed myself by the 



stomach. Howl ? No, I could n’t howl ! I could n’t breathe ! I felt 
myself growing unconscious. I was going around like a top. Buster 
was so frightened that he had crept under the table and was screaming, 
“ Ma !" “Help!" “ Police!" “Fire!" and “Murder /” at the top 
of his voice. 


[28] 


T ige — His Story 


jzesoisved That a 

tjjjJlPECARDlN C KINGS AND OTHER. THINGS 
I WANT TO Jay right here 

I J WOULD n't HAVE A MONARCH^ JOB TOR. A 
million Poundj* a Year . TwE only FREE 
MAN IN THE WORLD \S HE VWo'T FREE FROM 

(Tare, from Jocial obligations and from 

THE TEMPTER5 *JNARE . 

A MAN MAY HAVE A KINGDOM INHlJOVN 
DEAR HEART AND MIND, AND BE AS HAPPY 
ASA KING , IF HE IS ONLY KIND. 

A poet wrote about a mam "who 
never Tound Content for he took 

HIS DISPOSITION WITH HIM EVERYWHERE 
HE WENT * THATJ ALL 

BU5TER. B Sown. 


WELL, the firemen did n’t come, and the police did n’t come, 
but Ma came. She burst into the room and just stood and watched 
me until I ran down. At first she was going to run, but when 

she saw the two empty glasses 
her first awful suspicion that I 
was mad disappeared. 

OH, me! Oh, my! Oh, mamma! 
What a spanking poor Buster got. 
I felt so sorry for him I did n’t 
know what to do. He takes his 
lickings like a regular soldier, that 
boy. It is lovely to see a chap 
with so much grit. He never 
feels cross or resentful toward 
his mamma, either, after he is 
spanked. He seems to 
think it is a part of the trick. 
He always realises that no 
one could do wrong with- 
out some time suffer- 
ing for it. He told 
me once that every 
cause had its effect 
just as surely as I 
was a dog. He 
knows, too, that no 
one can do a good, or kind, or generous act without feeling happy 
afterward. Why, I do wish you could see some of the resolutions 
he has made. You would think that any one who could make so 
wise a resolution would never break it. But after all no one has 
ever seen dear Buster do a really bad thing. Whenever he did what 
appeared very naughty, it was a mistake, he did n’t mean it. 



Footprints on the path of time. 


[29] 


Tige — H is Story 


CHAPTER X — A Country Home and Country 
Dogs — Buster and I are Vaccinated 

USTER and I were both delighted with our new home 
in Flushing. We found a number of good companions 
to play with. There were lots of nice boys and girls in 
our neighbourhood for Buster, and I found a lot of very 
friendly dogs. The first morning I went out I met all 
the dogs in our end of the town waiting around the yard. They said 
“ Hello ! ” to me, and of course I said “ Hello ! ” to them. They 
wagged their tails in a friendly way, which is shorthand in dog talk 
for “ We like you.” In a few minutes we were bounding over the 
field and vacant lots, dashing through the tall grass, and playing tag 
in the same way that dogs play it everywhere. Dogs seem to know 
the rules for all dog games anywhere you go, and I ’ve never heard 
them quarrelling over a game. 

THERE was a wonderful assortment of dogs in our neighbour- 





“A wonderful assortment of dogs.” 

hood. A great St. Bernard, two fox-terriers, two collies, a white 
bull-terrier, a little bit of a Yorkshire terrier, and several “ sooner dogs.” 

[30] 



T ige — H/j Story 


I don’t know why they are called “ sooner dogs.” I suppose it is 
because they would sooner eat and sleep than anything else. But 
I have always found that the dogs with no pretence to aristocratic 
parentage were the kindest and usually the smartest, just like a 
good many people and other kinds of animals. 

BUSTER’S mamma put him into a little private school the week 
after we were all settled in our new home. His papa objected to 
that; he wanted him to go to the public school, but Mamma finally 
had her way and he was started in. I had to amuse myself as 
best I could while he was in school. After taking him there I 
used to return home and study the dictionary for awhile, and then 



“I used to study the dictionary. 


run out and play with the other dogs until it was time for us to go to 
the school and watch for our young charges to come out. Tag was 
our favourite game, but sometimes we played “ Pussy wants a 
corner,” and when we played the latter Pussy generally did want 
a corner — or a tree. 

THE time that Buster was vaccinated it was all his own fault, 
and, as much as I always loved him, I really did think that he 
deserved it because he told a lie. I don’t think he ever told a lie 
before or after that. Of course he didn’t realise that it was a lie, 
— he thought it was only a joke. He came late to school one 
morning, and, glancing around the room, he noticed that Willie 
Smith was absent. So when the teacher asked him why he was 
late he replied that he had called for Willie. He deliberately told 
her that he had seen Willie, and that Willie was in bed with the 
.small-pox. 


[31] 


T ige — H/j Story 


WITH that there was a wild rush for the door. Books and 
pencils flew about in every direction, and the other scholars all 
ran for the street. The teacher just calmly grabbed Buster and 
hustled him across the street to the doctor’s office, where, much to 
his astonishment, he was vaccinated. I would never have been 
vaccinated if I hadn’t bitten the doctor, but when I saw Buster 
screaming and yelling I felt so sorry for him that I could n’t help 
biting the doctor. When I bit the doctor he was so enraged that 
he sent for another doctor and they vaccinated me. Well, I would 
rather have anything than the sore leg I had after that. Poor 
Buster ! his arm swelled up like a balloon ; and, my ! but it did 
hurt him. He made a mighty strong resolution after that. 


CHAPTER XI — Buster’s Sunday-School 
Lesson and Its Effects — A Few 
Remarks about Cats 


SHALL never forget the first time he went to Sunday-schooi. 
I was n’t with him, but I saw all I wanted to see of the 
funny side of it. That first day the teacher was telling her 
pupils about Adam and Eve. She explained that Eve was 
made from Adam’s rib, which was taken from his side 
while he slept. 

THE story took a great hold on Buster, and he came 
directly home and asked his mamma if it was true. His 
mamma told him that it was. All afternoon and evening he sat in 
deep meditation and went to bed very much depressed or impressed. 
I couldn’t make out what was the matter with him. But about 
eleven o’clock I found out what was on his mind. I was lying 

[32] 



Tige — H/f Story 


asleep at the head of his bed when all of a sudden he gave a wild 
yell and a scream of terror. His parents rushed to the room and 
asked what the trouble was. “Quick, quick!” he howled; “ send 
for the doctor! I’m dying, I’m sure. Oh! Oh!” 

HIS father telephoned for the doctor, who promised to come at 
once. Buster kept yelling and rolling about in his bed as though 
he was in convulsions, complaining of a terrible pain in his side. 
Finally the old doctor arrived. “Buster! Buster!” said the doctor, 
“ what is the matter ? ” “ O Doctor ! ” screamed Buster, “ I have a 

terrible pain in my rib ; I think I ’m going to have a wife.” 

THE doctor examined his side carefully and assured him that 
he was quite sure that Buster’s suspicions were wrong. Finally 
when we were left alone, and Buster had fallen asleep, I could 
hear Mr. and Mrs. Brown and the old family physician downstairs, 
laughing themselves almost into convulsions. 

I NEVER went to a Sunday-school in my life. I don’t believe 
there is one for dogs. I know one thing, though, — “ Love is the 
fulfilling of the law,” and if we are kind and love our neighbours 
we have learned all they can tell us in Sunday-school. I think 
dogs ought to go to heaven, at least most of them ; for are dogs 
not as kind and forgiving as they can be ? I think dogs could teach 
little boys lots of things about forgiveness, if little boys would only 
learn. I have known lots of dogs who did n’t have kind, gentle 
masters and sweet comfortable homes like I have always had, who 
were as forgiving as they could be. 

THE worst thing I 
have ever done was to 
chase cats. I did n’t in- 
tend to hurt them, but it 
does amuse me andmake 
me laugh to see a cat run 
up a tree. Even then 
I would n’t frighten the “ The worst ,hing 1 havt ever don '" 

poor things just for my own amusement. But it does make me 

[ 33 ] 



Tige — H is Story 


angry when I see a cat trying to catch a poor little bird. O cats, 
cats! why do you want to kill the poor little birds? 

BUT sometimes a cat can turn the tables on a dog, as I well 
know to my sorrow. And it was n’t a great big tom-cat of fifteen 
pounds’ weight, but a little mewling kitten that hardly weighed half a 
pound. But oh, my ! he was a holy terror for his size, and his 
claws were like needles — only more so. 

ONE day Buster brought in a little round ball of fur with an 
innocent little face, that looked as if it wanted nothing better than 
cream and would abhor the idea of catching mice. Buster put the 
kitten down just in front of me and introduced us. I was just as 
gracious as I could be, and smiled my sweetest. Perhaps my smile 
is rather expansive, and I suppose it must have frightened the kitten, 
for in an instant the back of that innocent-looking bundle of fur 
went up, the face opened, and from the aperture came a sound 
like the fizzing of a bottle of soda-water, — only worse. 

YOU could have knocked me down with a crowbar when I saw the 
little lump of impudence with its paw raised and an air of defiance and 
ferocity on its face. I just leaned back against the wall and grinned 
my hardest, and I could hear Buster snickering in the doorway. I 
did n’t laugh long, though, for the little imp made a flying leap for my 
nose, a feature about which I am particularly sensitive. 

I TURNED tail and fled, and in an instant that little parcel 
of red-hot claws was on my back, and I was streaking it through the 
halls and up the stairs. Luckily Buster’s mamma was just about to 
take a bath, and as I heard the water running into the tub I saw 
my salvation. With a bound I was head over heels in the bath, 
and that wretched little kitten was nearly drowned. But I opened 
my mouth (the little beast was n’t a mouthful any way), picked it 
up, and dropped it on the floor, — the most forlorn little specimen 
of kittenhood you ever saw. I was saved, but it made me mad to 
hear Buster say, “ O Tige ! what in the world are you doing to 
poor pussy?” “Poor pussy! indeed!” thought I. “Gee! what’s 
the matter with poor Tige?” 


[34] 








HELLO Pussy! WME&.E 

DIO YO U COt^E FAO M ? 
DON'T BE AFRAID- I j 
, VONT HU AT VO U_P 


f J ts LUC kV l < 

WAS n't IN THE 
> TUB s 


'TICE WWATIN^ 
the world are 
You doing lb 

l Poor pussy? j 


Poor- pussy, 
^ GEE*. w 


/well HOLY J MOKEl 

WHAT 00 YOU THINK 
OF THAT ? < 


*■ 






Tige — H/j' Story 


CHAPTER XII — Some Cat Tales 

S a rule, cats are selfish and vain ; they don’t love any 
one but just themselves. See how our cat sits and 
washes her face and paws, and then calmly lies down 
in the sun to sleep. But, after all, cats have some 
nice things about them : they are quite beautiful some- 
times, and if treated kindly will become quite fond of their owners. 

I HEARD a very interesting story told one evening to a party 
of people who were dining with Mr. and Mrs. Brown. The gentle- 
man who told it said he would vouch for the truth of it as it 
was his own neighbour’s cat. It had been a great pet in the 
family until two young bull-terrier puppies were brought into the 
house. They were playful puppies, and when they found pussy 
would run away from them, they would chase after her. She 
was more frightened than they had any idea of, and as they grew 
older they kept the poor cat living on top of something all the time 
to keep out of their way. The family did not observe that their 
cat was fairly pining away for the caresses she used to get. 

WELL, one day Miss Pussy just couldn’t bear it any longer. 
The dogs had taken her place in the affections of the family, and 
she was tired of being worried all the time and being driven all 
over the house, so she walked deliberately down the front steps, 
and when the trolley car came dashing down the street she lay 
down on the track and was killed before the motorman could under- 
stand what she was up to and stop his car. Does n’t that show 
how sensitive animals are? 

I ALWAYS thought I would like to be a clown dog. I am like 
lots of other people, I would like to go on the stage. It does 
seem to me that they have such a good time. I heard an actor 
say that being on the stage was a dog’s life. And that ’s why dogs 

[ 37 ] 



Tige — H is Story 


like it, I suppose. The nearest I ever came to being on the stage was 
when they took me to the dog-show. I was stared at and petted and 
talked to until I grew awfully self-conscious. I never knew why they 
took me to the dog-show. I did n’t take the prize. There were lots 
of dogs there that I was sure would never take the prize. But you 
know when people love their dogs they really think they are the finest 
in the world. Love certainly does cover a multitude of sins. The 
whole Brown family thought I should have had the prize ; just be- 
cause I am intelligent and kind and good. It is in heaven where we 
get our reward for those things. The dog that did get the prize 
was the most arrogant and dull-brained loafer I ever met. I don’t 
say that because I am jealous, but because I am surprised. 

BUT I am wandering from my subject, for I was talking about cats. 
The man who told about the cat that committed suicide told another 
cat story that evening, and this story, he said, was also true. The in- 
cident happened in the New England village where he was born. 
As nearly as I can remember the story, it was like this. 

THERE were two boys in the family by the names of Jack and 
Billy. Some one or something had been stealing the little chickens, — 
each day two or three would be missing, — and as they were of a 
fine breed it became quite alarming. The family was talking about 
it one day at dinner, and wondering what or who the thief could 
be. They had noticed that their beautiful tom-cat had been seen in 
the neighbourhood of the hen-yard very often of late, and, much as they 
hated to think it might be pussy who was guilty of such a wicked 
piece of business, they finally decided that he was the culprit. What 
were they to do? Tom couldn’t go on eating the chickens, and 
how could they explain to him that it was not only a criminal 
but an expensive habit that he was getting into ? Well, they decided 
that the only thing to do was to do away with pussy. 

THE next day, when poor Tom was seen slowly walking down 
the garden walk toward the hen-yard, Jack and Billy took down 
the rifle and stole cautiously along through the currant and goose- 
berry bushes to where they expected to catch Mr. Cat in the act 

[38] 


Tige — H/r Story 

of stealing a chick. They finally hid themselves among the thick 
bushes at a spot where they could see the whole of the hen-yard. 
One side of the yard was against the barn, while another side was 
enclosed by a very tall board fence, perhaps ten feet high. 

THE boys hadn’t long to wait before they saw pussy on the 
top of the fence. Then he dropped noiselessly down into the yard. 
Now, strange to the boys was the fact that the cat’s appearance 
did n’t excite any commotion among the chickens, not a hen cackled 
or ran, they all went about their business as unconcerned as though 
no cat were there. The boys thought this was strange indeed, for 
at other times when they had missed chickens there had been a 
commotion that did not subside for an hour. 

WELL, pussy just crept quietly over to the side of the yard 
by the barn and sat quietly down alongside of a rat-hole. There ! 
that was the explanation — it was not Pussy, but the rats. So 
they waited, but not long, for soon a big gray rat, a savage-looking 
fellow, darted out of that hole, and in an instant Pussy had him 
by the neck, while he struggled fiercely for his freedom. Now the 
hen-yard was in an uproar : hens ran about frantically and cackled ; 
chicks fled in terror to their mothers ; and the excitement was awful. 

NOW comes in the strangest part of the story, a great gamecock, 
who was the pride of the place, bristled up, and slowly but deliberately 
strutted over to where the cat stood holding the struggling rat. 
Pussy understood what was coming: he had seen that same brave 
rooster fight rats before, so he held his head high so as to give 
every chance to Mr. Gamecock to do his work. With a savage 
spring the cock struck the rat with both of his sharp spurs ; again 
and again he dealt him terrible blows. When the rat showed no more 
signs of life other chickens ran up and pecked at him, until finally Mr. 
Puss, quite well satisfied that he was dead, sprang with him onto the 
roof of the hen-house and disappeared over the tall fence. 

HOW relieved and happy Jack and Billy were to find that their pet 
cat was not a culprit, but a hero ! They at once began a crusade 
against the rats in that barn that soon put an end to them. 

[39] 


T 'ige — H/j - Story 


CHAPTER XIII — Buster’s “Treatments” — An 
Attack of Measles — Some of My Adventures 



O you know, I have never been sick in my life, I never 
had even the colic or the pip. But then, why should 
I ? I have a happy disposition, and that will keep 
anybody well. Then I get plenty of plain food and 
exercise, to say nothing of lots of fresh air. 

BUSTER BROWN was never ill but once in his life. He takes 
a regular treatment every day. It is not osteopathy or absent 
treatment. Indeed it is very present 
treatment. It is taken in external^ 
applications. He does n’t think it * 



does him any good, but his mother “Here it is!” 

is a great believer in it. It doesn’t come in bottles, and I never 
heard of a doctor who ever prescribed it, although most druggists 
keep it. It is never used for grown people, but when you know 
what the instrument used for this treatment is, you will guess pretty 
well why Buster doesn’t like it. 

BUT that isn’t what he got when he had the measles. I don’t 
think he really had more than one measle, but he felt badly and 
went to bed, and, dear me! what a terrible fright his mother had. 
They sent for the preacher, two doctors, three Christian Science 
healers, and four nurses. When doctors arrived they decided to 
give Buster a dose. He lay quietly in bed and watched them pour 
it out in a spoon. Then Ma and Grandma and Delia and Pa and the 
two doctors and I all approached the bed very stealthily, as though 
Buster were fast asleep, when all the time there he lay looking 
straight at us. Then one of the doctors, a mealy-mouthed old thing, 
said in a very nice voice: 

[40 j 


T ige — H is Story 

“ HERE, Buster dear, is some nice pretty medicine for you ; take 
this and it will make you well.” 

JUST as they all got close to the bed, up jumped Buster, and over 
the foot of the bed he went, and out of the door, with all hands 
after him. The next minute a little white nightgown with a little 
boy inside of it was spinning across the lawn with a whole bunch 
of grown people in hot pursuit. Over the neighbour’s fence he 
went and disappeared in the stable, followed by Pa and Ma, Delia, 
Grandma, doctors, and all. After a long search we found Buster 
up in the hayloft. It took a good deal of coaxing to get him down, — 
promises of all sorts of nice things. He was to have a pony cart, a 
phonograph, and a bicycle, and what’s more, he got ’em. 

THAT was the same phonograph with the big horn into which 
I jumped that time. Yes, sir! I jumped right into the horn and 



Duty before Discretion. 


Tige — H is Story 

broke the phonograph all up. But it was not my fault. I heard 
some one in there calling, “ Here, Tige ! Come, Tige ! Good dog ! ” 
and then whistling; so I didn’t stop to think about it, but just 
jumped right in with all my might, and got my head stuck fast. 
Oh, my! but I felt foolish when they all howled with laughter. I 
think that people should n’t fool dogs. However, they did n’t blame 
me, — they just got a new phonograph. 

ONE of the most exciting and thrilling experiences that I ever 
had was when I got caught in Buster’s kite-twine and was carried 
flying across the country. Buster had made himself a huge kite, and 
we went out into the fields to sail it. It went up fine, for the wind 
was blowing pretty well. Buster was having his own time holding 
on to the twine. It got into a tangle on the ground, and as I never 
noticed it I got all snarled up in it. About that time the kite got 
away from Buster and away I went. 

FOR a while I was dragged across the fields just a few feet from 
the ground, sometimes bumping against things. There happened to 
be an artist sketching over on the side of the hill, and when I 
came booming along I hit that poor painter “ kerplunk knocking 
him over, and getting his easel and picture all tangled up in the 
mess of twine that trailed after me. Before the surprised and half- 
stunned man had recovered his senses and his feet, his picture was 
sailing across country at a fine gait. But we were too heavy for 
even a big kite to carry very high, and so we all landed in a tree. 
There I hung by the leg until Buster and the painter had got a ladder 
from a farmhouse and climbed up to where I was and lifted me down. 

MY ! but I felt foolish. All the cows and sheep and birds as- 
sembled to watch, and I would have barked at them good, but 
the tree had more bark than I had. I was done up. I could 
scarcely walk home, and when I did get to Buster’s room I went 
straight to bed. No bones were broken or real harm done, so I 
got well over-night, but I don’t ever want to be an aeronaut. I 
wasn’t nearly so frightened the time Buster used an umbrella as a 
parachute and we escaped from a burning hotel in London. 

[4a] 



Mite TESSIC TELEGRAM 
THC SLACK WIRELESS MESSAGE 

in mc« »iMv«u.eiwi 
PAIH^ROutN SPACE 


LOOK OUT 
TICE / 


/Quior BustcrK < 


MY FOOTlT CAUGHT! 




J wiJm 1 Could 

FLY LIKE THAT T 
V KiTC S 


^mold oh tice 

YOu'Kl TAUCltr 
7 iw MY TWINE 3 


[ MORE THIS nci 
WILL BE A Co. 


MOLD OH W «TNIN <S _ 
TALK To THE Krft 


RESOLVED • 

THAT TlGE LIKES K'Tf FLYING SO 
riOCH THAT HE IS SIMPLY CARRIE D 
AWAY BY IT. HE IS LIKE SOME 
OTHER PEOPLE. MC WENT UPiN THE 
WORLD SUDDENLYAND RAPIDLY 
BUT IT WAS TOO MUCH FoR HIM, FOR 
HE WENT UP JOUTH END FIRST. NOW 
B&OTHtftS.MUARroF A SUDDEN 


HOLD OH UP TUI*e 
TICE - TMCY'u. CCT 

C vou down; 


due in the world. The chap Docs 
NOT BE LONG AT THE Top OF Tw L»K>tR 
WHO DIDN’T CLIMB «T WONC-STLY 
ROUND BY ROUND. DO THE THING 
NEAREST To 'rfou AND DO (TWILL 
THERE ’ll BE ABETTER TAjKAwwrnwG 
YOU WHEN THAT IS FINISHED. IF YOU 
ARE NEARING THE TOR DOhT PUT ON 
AIRS WITH THf CHAD BFlOW YOU IF 
HE IS COMINC YOUR WAr,HE\l JOOH BE r 
,C“*\w ITH YOU V 

' ..I K' RllfTroBDoL/KJ ; 


BUJTfR BROWN/ 



\\ 

bgJ / 




A Tremendous Adventure 








T ige — His Story 


CHAPTER XIV — Some Dog Stories — Two 
Fights in Which I Was Interested 

FEW pages back I told some stories about cats, and 
now I propose to wag a few tales about dogs. 

I ONCE knew a dog who was always chasing cats. 
He would leave his supper to run after a cat. He had 
catomania, Buster said. Well, one day that dog was 
lying on the floor, up-stairs in his master’s room, sound asleep. A cat 
yowled out in the yard under the window, and the master, purely in 
fun, said “ Sic ’em, Reb ! ” Reb sicked ’em all right, — right out 
through the window. But when he hit the ground I heard him go 
“oof!” which is dog-talk for “gosh!” or something of that kind. 
He had to sit down and rest his face and hands for a few minutes, 
and pussy was getting busy over back fences a half a mile away by the 
time he got together. His master apologized to him for it, and Reb 
forgave him, but I ’ll bet he now stops to think it over before he 
jumps out of windows. 

I HEARD Mr. Brown reading a story of a dog one evening, in a 
paper he bought at the dog-show. I was very much interested in 
that story, because it was true. It told of a dog that belonged to a 
family in Kentucky. He was a beautiful shepherd dog, and the 
family loved him, but they were poor and sold him to a man who 
lived across the river in Ohio, a few miles back from the river. Well, 
the new master took his dog home with him and chained him to 
his kennel. 

NOW, to cut the story short, this is just what happened. Mr. Dog 
waited until all hands were fast asleep, then he dragged that kennel to 
the Ohio River, swam across, and dragged it to his old home, where 
he was found wagging his wet tail furiously when the family got up 

[45] 



T ige — H is Story 


in the morning. Talk about having a few cans tied to a dog’s tail — 
that’s nothing compared to a kennel tied to your neck. 

I KNOW a dog who thinks he is a cat. Now that’s true, — yes, 
sir ! — thinks he is a cat. His mother died from astonishment when 
she found she had only one puppy; he was the one, and as he was 
only about three days old when she departed this life (as they say in 
the papers), he was in a mighty lonesome fix. But it happened there 
was a cat by the name of Tabby, that had five little kittens just three 
days old. Some one took the little puppy dog and socked him down 
with the kittens. The mother cat looked a little mystified and 
puzzled when she returned to her box where the kittens were asleep. 
Dear old puss, she did n’t throw him out, but just adopted him. That 
dog will never bark at a cat, because he thinks he is a cat himself. 
It would be funny if some one put him down in front of a looking- 
glass alongside of a cat. Even if he should discover his mistake I 
don’t believe he would bother cats. 

THIS dog and I were talking one day, and I was telling him of the 
only dog-fight I ever had. I never could bear the idea of fighting ; 
but there are times, I am sure, when we are forced into it. I know I 
was that time. A new family had moved into the neighbourhood 
and brought with them a very vicious dog. Whatever made him 
vicious I’m sure I don’t know. He seemed to be well and com- 
fortable. I would never have fought with him except that it was to 
save Buster. 

DEAR little Buster did n’t know there were any cross things in 
the world, so when the dog started for him he did n’t run, but stood 
looking at him. I saw what was going to happen, so I ran to head 
him off. I wasn’t quite quick enough to do that, but I reached 
him just before he reached Buster, so I grabbed him by the tail. 
Of course it hurt him, for I was holding on pretty tight. He was 
a bulldog, so he turned quickly and tried to get me by the leg. 
That ’s a fighting-dog’s trick. But oh, no ! I happen to be a bull- 
dog myself, and I knew that trick. He went round and round, 
and so did I. The more he tried to get hold of me, the more I 

[46] 


T ige — H/j Story 

chewed on his tail. I ’m going to tell you a secret, — he has been 
a bobtailed dog ever since that day. When his tail finally came 
off, he flew for home. He has never spoken to me from that 
day to this. 



“I grabbed him by the tail.” 


THAT fight always reminds me of the time I saved Buster’s 
life out on the farm. I don’t deserve any credit for that, for two 
reasons: first I love Buster; and, second, I am a bulldog and naturally 
know just what to do to a cross bull. Buster took his camera with 
him to the farm, and one day he decided it would be a fine thing 
to make a picture of his uncle Jack’s cross bull. I thought he 
intended to get the snap-shot from the top of the high fence that 
surrounded the pasture lot. No, sir! The first thing I knew he 
had the gate open and had walked into the lot, and was calling 
me to follow him. I tried to coax him not to go in there, but it was 
of no use. When I saw that he really meant business, I followed, 


Tige — H is Story 


because I knew that if the bull should try to hurt him I could 
protect him. 

WELL, after he was a few yards inside the gate he fixed his 
camera in place, and what do you think, — he pulled out a big red 
rag and waved it about gaily to attract the bull’s attention. I knew 
then that the game was up. The bull might have been in a good 
humour and never have bothered him ; but now it was all off. We 
did n’t have long to wait, for in a few moments Mr. Bovine spied 
that red rag and came bounding and snorting toward us, waving 
his tail in the air. 

BUSTER was delighted. Sometimes I have thought that that 
boy was crazy. Can you fancy any one welcoming with delight 
the approach of a wild bull? It makes me shudder to think of 
that day. I started on a bound to meet the bull. He stopped and 
put down his head, snorting savagely, and glared at me while he 
pawed at the ground and lashed his sides with his tail. That red 
rag was a little too much for him. Then he jumped forward 
and swung his head at me ; but oh, no ! not for your friend Tiger 
Brown. I felt blood in my eye, and my hair bristled and stood 
on end. I was ready for business then. As he rushed at me 
furiously I heard Buster cry, “ Fine , Tige ! I ’ve got two bully 
negatives ! ” Think of that little pinhead calmly getting snap- 
shots while I was risking my life to give him a chance to run. 

AS I was saying, the bull made a furious rush at me, and tried to 
toss me, but he missed his mark, and*as his head was raised in the air it 
had a bulldog by the name of Tige Brown fast to his nose. There ’s 
where Buster ran for the gate. His uncle Jack had found where he 



[48] 



“He stopped and put down his head.” 












































































































• • 














































































































































































Tige — H/j Story 


was and was calling him. The bull threw his head about as he ran. 
It must have made him dizzy, or else it was my weight, for he 
fell headlong and rolled over on the ground. I let go of him and 
flew for the gate, which Uncle Jack was holding open for me, and 
that episode was ended. It is a good thing that Mrs. Brown was n’t 
there, or I ’m afraid dear little Buster would have had his coat-tail 
fanned with a hair-brush. 


CHAPTER XV — Buddy Tucker and Mary Jane 
— Buster and I Make Our Wills 

T was during the following summer that we went to 
Europe. I thought it was only fair that Buster should 
go. His father and mother did n’t intend to take him. 
They bade him good-bye and started for the steam- 
ship, but he was there as soon as they were, because 
he hooked on behind the carriage. We sneaked aboard the ship, 
and were not discovered by Ma and Pa until we were out to sea. It 
was a very eventful trip. We saw most of Europe and had some 
fine fun. Buster lost quite a lot of his mischievousness (how ’s 
that for a word?) while he was abroad, because he was too much 
interested in things to play tricks. But he got it all back when he 
reached home. 

WHILE we were in London Mrs. Brown was so much engaged 
that she hired a little messenger-boy to take Buster around and 
show him the sights. Each day for three weeks that messenger 
came to our hotel and took us out for a ride on a ’bus or a walk 
along the streets or in the parks. He and Buster got to be such 

[5i] 



T ige — H/j Story 

friends that when we left London Mrs. Brown had him go with us 
to Liverpool to see us off. Well, he saw us off so successfully 
that he forgot to get off the steamer and came all the way to 
America with us. When we arrived in New York he was put up 
at the Browns’ house until he could be sent back. Buster just 
adopted him, and commenced calling him “ Buddy,” which is a 
pet name for brother. He cabled Buddy’s mother what had hap- 



TO THE 

ANY PtT OH THAT 
TAfeLt VO* 39 * . 

AU» Goob strong ntj 


dim IP>ets &w©Tk!I!R]@§ 

L|g ' animal Petj, of cour-Sc . MO.ST PrOPLD MU 3 T HAVE SOMETHING 1 


ic/TO 'LOVE' -"WHY PONT THEy LOME THEIR. NEI 6 H 8 ORS AS THEM.5ELVf.si) 

IT WOULD MAKE THEM HAPPIER . <JoME PEOPLE DONT LOVE ThEIB PETS if / 

TheV ARE only PROUD or THEM- DO&S THE MAN LoVEHIS HoRSC ' 

when he putj a Check rein in his mouth ? DOES A / 
•woman love Birds who putstxem in her. hat? no.no: A m 
W ©m PITT ILDMDMIOT IT? CAN BE TAKEN jp% 

INSIDE OR OUT. MAKES HAIR. CRoy, REtf-UL ATES THE CLOCK, 

TS GOOD rORfUENlTURE POLISH PUDDING SAUCE. IT k=- Sv3 
Contains the SanE thing as ev/w^QTTlR Patent MEDICINE 


I LAUGHING HYENA. 

HE'S SEEN LAUCH/NC 
I EVIR S IN CC NC SAW 
I i»TNl PAPERS THAT 
TAMMANY WOULD 

sr©r Police graft 


■vS A kiirr i of *tVi ku cm i 


^ A NICE LOT OF STYLISH SNAKES 


JUST RECEIVED 


UJ thatS vour. ^ 

NEPHEW. HiS NAME 
•J BUDQT TUCKER/ 


IS 

NOAH. AND HE THINK* 

THlC 1 e TUC ^ rv , . x 


WAV*!fT COT *■) 

STIA }CC~y ~ -T 


J\ HAVEN'T HAD] 
[a DROP To DRINK/ 




Buddy’s Uncle kept an Animal Store. 


pened to him, and soon there came a letter from her telling Buddy 
of an uncle he had in New York, and asking him to hunt him up. 

I SHALL never forget the day that we found that uncle. He kept 
a store where there were birds and animals of all kinds. I had 
scarcely got into the place before a pet snake coiled himself 
around my legs, and a sassy monkey grabbed me by the tail. I 
was frightened to death. My ! but I was glad when I got out of 
that store. Buddy lived with his uncle after that ; but we used to 

[52] 


T ige — H is Story 



see him quite often, for sometimes on Saturdays he would bring a 
little bear named “ Botts ” and come and spend the day with us. 
I had lots of fun with that bear, he was very tame and playful. 
He could n’t run as fast as I did, but he could climb trees, and had 


\i 


54 NORTH PARSONS AVENUE 
FLUSHING NEW YORK 

<$jUt 

a_ <yH- 'TfZ, 

^ /Slo-ur </- eau. 

-tirUfZ Zo 

jfare'iy d<XM. cvu^iC &M4- 'fistidc yto sms,. 

Zfey*- y^<- ^ <Z4 # C>d»- 

■&. c6a-^<) (tC./' 

| <OvrsC Ts't/tyd. ‘fy<* oc - > -d&nu. c&tp- 

1 <u^ 

f <yn. 'Wnsc/e- ■ JhsCyfco cd<x*f 

| sailed S?7l£. . cZ^et- Ct^yL-aC fajL, Asu. 


**« 


^/' 0 / ^AjU. 

^ ^ Ctid£ 

{z /7 Jl^<z£*sdC 'ir^dCc 'dF <y^ci. cd*^ tU 

(sSZjtyL*- <xccf k deyy ^ ”55 Kcuf" 

/jTvuf-<M4 <zf~ cZdtic~ yhZe^t . 


They always kept up a correspondence.' 

[53] 


Tige — H/j Story 

all the cats in the neighbourhood frightened out of their wits. I 
heard one cat say to another cat one day that she h&d better 
look out, there was a dog visiting the Browns that could climb 
a tree. 

BUSTER and I used to go very often to see Mary Jane. It 
was astonishing how those two always kept up a correspon- 
dence and never forgot each other. All the time we were in 
Europe that summer he would write to her every day, and she 
always answered his letters. One day I told Buster that I thought 
he loved her better than he loved me. He felt very badly about 
it and told me that such a thing could never be. He said that if 
I didn’t believe him he would make a will and leave everything 
to me. 


, o/o a/£ UfHom if'/rmzsy. eomusvu, . 
I 4 SW*, c&> 


■jkctrfiy t^r". ttcishw • 

Urt^i <S<yfbS^c, IZU 

^ fate y Secta 
fawn. , «_ 

Aut Cvvflt Jcrv , /Zlotus&ju* iLofe* 

&HA. 

jfooT <6rzM y 'fade. HuTo 1&ZL 

<^A^Urt~<^rztty &*ut- 

&k e_ -flAcAoCLAj ohjl Vnayic, •&onXDv>i / \ 

Soo ^SL&faie^t. 6 /<£./> cock* 

tX-yotHt- tCsmfasy . - *’' A ^ 

&O UT^cJl. *rny 

■4X0^ tfsUczZ&z. 

6 


\ mx. 



Buster’s Will. 


[54] 



r . y ‘ Jr 
' /A ' J .&*- 

JCfiF 


sy y 

/./ / 


V 




Mary Jane 















4 























t 







































Tige — H is Story 


WELL, he made that will, and I have it still. But as he and 
Mary Jane grow older I feel more and more confident that if 
nothing occurs they will some day be married. They both have 
such sweet dispositions, and Buster is such a fine chap, that I 
think it would be very nice. But, dear me ! I need not worry, for 
I shall never grow old enough to be a guest at the wedding. Buster 
says if I am alive I shall be best man. But I know that I shall 
not be alive, so before I go any further I think I shall make a will 
too, to show my love for Buster. 



Tiger Brown’s Will. 


[57] 


T ige — H is S tory 


CHAPTER XVI — Buster’s Kindness of Heart 
— Some More of His Tricks — Thoughts 
on Dog-Heaven 

fjF DON’T think I ever told you that both Buster and I are mem- 
bers of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals 
H and of the Audubon Society. Buster’s mamma had always 
taught him to be very kind and gentle to animals ; but while 
this teaching was all right in its way, it was quite unneces- 
JW sary, for Buster loved animals too well ever to be cruel to 
them, and he could never bear to hear of any one else ill- 
using them. Let me give you an instance of his kindness. 
WHEN autumn came on and the nights grew cold, we noticed 
that there were mice in the house. They had come in from the 
fields, where they had been frolicking all summer. At night we 
could hear them scampering around in the walls — playing tag or 
hide-and-go-seek, and making a dreadful clatter. They grew very 
bold and annoying. So Mr. Brown bought some wire mouse-traps 
and put them all around the house. Next morning Buster came 
in from play with his little chum Bobby Clark, and found a mouse 
all cuddled up in one of the traps and frightened almost out of her 
wits. The first thing that occurred to dear little Buster was what 
were they going to do with the mouse. It would be dreadfully 
cruel to kill it, he said to his mamma. So he got some bread and 
cheese and put into the trap. He played with the mouse and 
watched it for three or four days, until it became very tame indeed. 

FINALLY it was decided that something must be done with it, 
and Buster suggested taking it away out in the fields and setting 

[58] 


T ige — H is Story 


it free. So Buster and Bobby and three little girls started off with 
Miss Mouse. They also took with them a lot of bread and cheese 
to leave with her after they should set her free, in case she had 
nothing to eat. Away off in the tall grass in a meadow half a 
mile away from our home they all gathered around the trap and 
opened the door. The mouse came out slowly, looked all about 
her, and then went back into the trap. Then they had to shake 
her out and shut the door. But she quickly ran up one little girl’s 
dress and hid in her pocket. Dear me ! what were they to do ? 
Finally they got her out of Ruth’s pocket and put her down by the 
bread and cheese, and then all ran as fast as their legs would carry 
them. Buster looked back and saw the poor little mouse trying to 
follow them, but it was no use ; they ran too fast for her, and she 
was lost in the fields. 

POOR Buster, he felt dreadfully sad about it that night and prayed 
for the poor little mouse alone in the fields with only a few days’ 
rations. Bobby did n’t take it so seriously. He thought it was a 
fine joke on the mouse. Bobby is the boy who said “ Ip you don’t 
bweeb in Santa Cwas he won’t bwing you any fing, wiwy?” which 
being interpreted means “ If you don’t believe in Santa Claus he won’t 
bring you anything, will he ? ” 

INDEED Buster never was unkind to anything. I know he will 
grow to be a great and good man. All the mischief he ever got into 
was either because he was investigating or because he wanted to 
laugh. The time he glued his father’s shoes to the floor was only a 
matter of fun. It would have been fun, too, if he had not tipped the 
glue can over and sat in the glue. 

OH, that was terrible ! There we 
sat in the nice warm glue, watching 
the shoes, until Buster’s mamma 
came in and discovered us. We 
would have run away, but both of us found that we could n’t move ; 
we were as fast to the floor as the shoes were. Well, Mrs. Brown 
just unbuttoned Buster’s pants and pulled him right out of them, and 

[59] 



Tige — H is Story 

while she had him with his pants off she just gave him a treatment. 

But, listen, she could n’t pull me out of my pants. 
I sat there for hours while hot water was being 
used on that glue. For a while they were talking 
of just cutting out the 
piece of the floor on 
which I sat and letting 
me wear it around until 
it wore off. I wore 
bandages and a pillow 
for a few days after 
that, and every time I 
forgot and wagged my 

After Treatment. A T j A i_ i “ 1 wore a P illow for a few da y s ” 

tail I had to howl. 

BUSTER never intended to injure or destroy anything, but some- 
times he did so when he least expected it. I never did quit laughing 
about that time he sat on the eggs. Poor little pinhead ! Think of 
putting a dozen eggs in the best library chair, and then sitting upon 
them. When his mamma came in she saw him sitting there so 
quietly that sh6 exclaimed, “ What a dear little boy ! ” Buster asked 
her how long eggs must be sat upon before they would hatch. 
“Three weeks,” she replied sweetly. “Why?” Up jumped Buster. 
“ That settles it,” he said ; “ I can’t hatch these eggs.” 

WITH one glance Mrs. Brown saw the point. She saw also a 
dozen or more broken eggs smashed in the chair, and as for Buster’s 
clothes — well, they were n’t fit for publication. Oh, Buster, Buster ! 
Paddy Whack and G. Whitaker Whack were what he got, and he 
got ’em good and plenty. 

THE Browns never had any bric-a-brac on their dining-room 
mantelpiece, because Buster’s meals were served there so often that 
it was n’t worth while. I know that when he grows to be a man 
he will often laugh at some of his boyish pranks, and I am writing 
this and my other books so that he can remember them. 

THERE are thousands of children who love their dogs, and 

[60] 




Tige — H/r Story 


thousands of dogs who love their young masters and would die 
for them. That is why I sometimes think that dogs will go to heaven 
(I mean good dogs, of course), for it seems terrible to think that 
after the many sweet and happy days that a boy and a dog 
have played together they should be parted for all eternity. I 
feel that if I am a very good dog I will some day go to heaven. 
Won’t I look funny with wings! But then I think that if we 
are all very good in this world, just as good as we can be, we 
need not be worried about the next, as everything is right. 

NOW, boys, before I bring my book to a close, I must say one 
thing. Don’t ever be unkind or cruel to animals. You don’t know 
how sensitive they are. They suffer as much as you do. 

AND now I must say good-bye. 

TIGER BROWN. 



“EVER FAITHFUL.” 


[ 61 ] 



























* 








































































, 






































































































































* 












• - 






























































































































































































■ <~r I 


90S 




















1 


* 
































